


Dinner in Berlin

by whouffaldigoldbelle



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Historical References, Mild Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 19:04:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2439512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whouffaldigoldbelle/pseuds/whouffaldigoldbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor decides to cheer Clara up with a dinner surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner in Berlin

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Kill The Moon - the Doctor mentions that he and Clara dined in Berlin, 1937.

The doors of the TARDIS flung open. The Doctor was sitting with his back to the door, his feet up at the control panel, doing nothing. Clara stomped over to him, swivelling his chair round so that he faced her.  
"Pleasant evening?" he said, mildly. This was obviously the wrong thing to say however. 

Clara looked thoroughly upset.  
"Got stood up," she replied in a small voice. "Danny cancelled our date to mark papers." 

The Doctor felt angry at the soldier.  
"Feeble excuse," he growled. "What papers are there to mark in P.E?" 

"He teaches Maths," she snapped, automatically correcting him. She shouldn't have though. "I waited for half an hour outside that Jamaican place. By myself."

The Doctor watched as she went to take her coat off.  
"I'm going to get an early night," Clara sighed. "Maybe get some takeaway and eat it later. Haven't had food yet." 

The Doctor thought for a second.  
"No," he said finally. 

"Beg your pardon?" 

"I said, no takeaway this evening because know how the evening will go, Clara." The Doctor stood up and went over to the control panel and spoke very fast, very close to her.  
"First, we'll order takeaway. Second, you'll eat yours, you'll then eat half of mine because you're grumpy at your... fancy man. So instead of having a good time it will be Pink-brain switched on all evening. Again. And to top it off, you'll bury yourself in a Jane Austen novel, waiting for Mr Darcy. So that's not happening tonight, Clara." 

Clara looked at the floor, blushing crimson. The Doctor was correct. She wanted to unload all of her problems onto him, but he was not prepared to listen if it involved her love life. 

"We'll starve in that case. And you'll be cranky." 

"No I won't. And we don't have to starve."

"I'm not eating black pudding again," she warned him. 

"You don't have to, Clara," he said, winking. "Because I'm treating you to dinner. Dinner with a little excitement thrown in"

Clara sighed. "You're doing it again!"

"Doing what?"

"Being mysterious. Where are we going?"

"Somewhere. You'll love it. Go change, think war time fashion."

"So, how do I look?"  
Clara slid open the door to the main control room of the TARDIS, posing a little. She was wearing a gorgeous maroon trench coat, teamed with a delicate hat and her hair styled nicely into neat curls. Just right for dinner in Berlin.  
Berlin, 1937. 

She stood tapping her foot, waiting for the Doctor to give her one of his ideas of a compliment. She had one hand on her hip and was playing coyly with her hair.

No reaction.

"Stupid... bloody..." were the words Clara caught. She came down the stairs. What was he doing? 

"Doctor! Oi, snap out of it."

"Hm?" 

He had been engrossed in his own outfit, grumbling by the mirror at the unusually baggy fit of his suit. 

"My outfit!" Clara raised a brow acknowledging the fit of his suit. "Honestly, what were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking anything," the Doctor scowled, quickly changing the subject. 

"Clearly..." she almost said. 

The Doctor glanced over at Clara. "You look alright." 

"As ever, a perfect gentleman..." Clara muttered. "Well, what's the problem? Come on, out with it."

"Maybe a bit too fashionable. Two or so years early with the trends." 

"In that case, I will have to be a trendsetter," she quipped. "because I'm starving, Doctor." Clara's stomach rumbled right on cue. 

"You ready then?"

"I'm all set, but you need to change your suit first. Does you no favours." Clara immediately went to the wardrobe and pulled out a dapper dinner suit.  
Very suave, she observed, impressed. 

"Yes, ma'am." The Doctor mock-saluted, causing Clara to her bite her lip to hide a cheeky grin creeping over her face. 

"Wait, your bow tie is still crooked. You never used to have this much trouble..."  
Clara's voice suddenly tailed off. She had done it again, accidentally compared him to - well, the older (yet younger) him. He looked downcast. 

"Doctor, I'm sorry," Clara apologised. 

"It's okay," The Doctor waved a hand dismissively. "You were only talking about bow ties."  
His attempt to tie a neat knot failed, and he swore silently. Clara watched him struggle. 

"How did I used to do this ruddy thing? It's worse than a RUBIX cube." 

"If it helps," Clara smiled, "your dress sense has improved drastically."  
Her stomach growled again. "Okay, I really am starving now. Here, let me." 

"Clara - "

Before the Doctor could object, Clara had placed her hands round his collar, taking her time as she carefully adjusted the bow tie for him. Her fingers delicately touched his skin and she felt the Doctor flinch at the suddenness. She also couldn't help but inhale his subtle aftershave - citrus wood with tobacco leaf, Clara observed. The Doctor radiated intelligence and oozed in class. Charismatic, sophisticated and manly. Like him. 

The Doctor, meanwhile, tried to breathe as normally as possible. He watched Clara's furrowed frown as she concentrated on him, and his pulse raced as he felt her touch. They locked gazes for a split second, then simultaneously looked elsewhere. 

"There we go," she said, stepping back slightly. 

"Fixed?"

" Absolutely. Now we can be the height of sophistication," Clara made her way to the doors. 

"So, you ready for a dinner you won't forget, Clara?" the Doctor grinned. 

"Ready as I'll ever be," Clara replied. She felt a buzz of excitement. Taking his arm she led him outside.  
The Doctor's grin became a real, genuine smile as they headed together into the fresh Berlin night.

It was colder than Clara thought. The Doctor didn't seem a bit bothered, his grey coat wrapped around him. She shivered, knowing that she could only walk so fast in heels. 

"How far is this restaurant?" Clara said curiously, holding his arm even more firmly. 

"A fair few minutes away," he shrugged. He didn't mind the walk at all. 

"So why didn't you just land the TARDIS around the corner?" 

"Why should I?" the Doctor retorted. "We're in Berlin, Clara! It's 1937. Soak up some culture, stop whinging and admire it while we're here. May also come in useful for your teaching," he added, thoughtfully. 

He had a very good point. She had been focusing on the negatives, when really there was so much to experience. She had seen photographs, paintings of Nazi Germany but it had never shown the small, attractive parts of war time Berlin. 

They arrived a minute later outside a grand German hotel.  
"Here we are," the Doctor announced. "The Blue Lagoon." He turned to her. "Shall we?" Clara followed the Doctor inside, taking in all the surroundings in amazement. There was a glass chandelier in the entrance, a bar area and a pianist entertaining a small selection of dinner guests. Everything was dripping in elegance.   
"Beats Jamaican any day," Clara smiled, as the Doctor chivalrously took her coat. She watched him make his way to the cloakroom with mixture of awe and admiration. It was surprisingly intimate. This was almost like... a date. 

The Doctor returned a minute later with a couple of drinks, followed by a waiter carrying menus.  
"This kind gentleman has agreed to sit us over in that corner." He gesticulated to the furthest corner of the room, where the nicest table was set out ready for them.  
Clara used her basic knowledge of German to thank the waiter. As soon as they were seated, she put her drink on the table. 

"What did you do?" she hissed. 

"What do you mean, what did I do?"

"Just what you said. That. Getting us this table." She pointed back to the waiter who was now turning people away at the door. 

"Like I said, I made a reservation. Stop complaining, Clara." He rested his hand on hers. "Unless you want to go back, of course..." 

"Of course I don't, you big donkey. This is a lovely distraction after earlier tonight."

Is that all this meal is? the Doctor wondered. A lavish distraction? His hearts sank a bit, but said nothing. 

"Good job too - be a shame to waste that fine beer, Clara." 

She knew immediately that she'd said something. He picked up the menu instantly and went quiet. 

"What are you thinking, Doctor?" she said again. This time it wasn't a rhetorical question, she wanted to know what was on his mind. 

"Sausages."

"Huh?" 

"I'm thinking... that I can't go to Berlin without having their special Knockwurst sausages. There." He pointed out the sausages on the menu, as the waiter returned. 

The Doctor ordered for them both - sausages for himself, chicken for Clara.  
As soon as the waiter had vanished, she tried again.  
"What's bugging you, Doctor?"

"Nothing's bugging me, Clara. Except your questions." 

"Something's been on your mind all evening," she observed. "Out with it or I'll just keep on hassling you." 

He said nothing, but took a gulp of beer and fiddled with his bow tie, straightening it for about the thirtieth time that evening.

"Stop that," Clara sighed. "It's distracting."

"Well, I thought tonight was meant to be a distraction," muttered the Doctor. "Pretty fancy one, but it's working."

"Oh no, no, that's not what I meant at all..." Clara groaned. Her big mouth. He was surprisingly sensitive. She placed her hand on his lap, almost causing the Doctor to spill his beer. "This evening is incredible. It's so appealing to me, actually it's quite - romantic."

What was that? Oh well done, Oswald, she scolded herself. Clara sat still, hoping he hadn't heard that last part. 

He had heard, as his expression was one of bewilderment but he wanted to know more, as he leaned in slightly. Clara was now slightly redder than before. She would blame the combination of cold air and the drink later. She continued. 

"However lavish tonight is, the best part is always your company, Doctor." She moved closer to his side of the table. "And you never cease to amaze me."

"I try," he replied. "Not always with success, but I do enjoy seeing you happy, Clara. I won't deny that."

She was doing it again. She was far too close to him. But this time his tie was fine, his hair was neat, yet Clara was leaning in towards him For a split, wonderful second, he thought perhaps she was leaning in to kiss him. 

"Doctor - " she began, as her fingers danced lightly down his dinner jacket. He felt himself growing weaker under her spell.  
Maybe tonight in Berlin, he would summon up the courage he had been storing up for so long, and kept denying. Now he could no longer deny it. He wanted nothing more than to tell her how he felt for her, had always felt. Now felt perfect... 

But he never found out about the possibility of a kiss. 

A shout came from behind him. The Doctor felt Clara's grip loosen and her eyes had darted to the entrance. A man had entered the building in a Nazi uniform with a very prominent, all-too-recognisable moustache. 

"Oh, you are kidding me," growled the Doctor his eyes now also on the man. "Of all the ways to ruin a date..." 

They were on their feet in a manner of seconds. The moustaches man shot a glance their way.  
"Do something, Doctor," Clara beckoned to him through through gritted teeth. 

"Like what?" he whispered back. "Any bright ideas, because I'm out of them."

"Well, killing him might be a start," Clara suggested coolly.  
The Doctor was more than a bit taken aback by her sudden outburst.  
"Clara, I'm not a killer. Unless in defence. Shut up and get out your psychic papers."

She couldn't believe it. 

"Ever heard of this man, Doctor?!" Clara's voice was quite loud and a few heads swivelled. "Goes by the name Adolf H - "

"Clara. I don't wish to sound rude and abrupt, but do shut up a second." The Doctor snapped holding her hand tightly as he fumbled for his papers. "We're attracting attention."

But Hitler was approaching the two of them. It was then that he first saw a glimmer of hatred in Clara's eyes. The same look of hatred that Daleks had seen in himself.  
But Clara said nothing as he came to them. She maintained a calm exterior, even though she was shaking inwardly. He carried on. 

A few minutes later, the restaurant had resumed its atmosphere. 

The food arrived, but Clara picked at her chicken.  
"Is something wrong?" The Doctor asked her.  
"Actually, a little bit."  
"I'll summon the waiter over. Too cold?" He went to raise his hand but Clara tugged it down.  
"It was, you know, him. I just ran through in my head everything he's done. Everyone that's been killed as a result of him. And we didn't stop him.  
The Doctor pursed his lips thoughtfully.  
"An encounter with Hitler wasn't part of the agenda, I must say. But we can't go changing history at the snap of a finger, Clara."  
"Why not? You travel through time and space. Why would that be so bad?"  
"Believe me, Clara, something equally as diabolical could happen in the future instead," he said. "Trust me." 

And she did. 

They finished their meals, clearing their plates. When she 'accidentally' got sauce on his nose Clara burst out laughing.

"If that was an accident, I'm the Queen of Raxacoricofallopatorius," grinned the Doctor as they left, arms entwined. This time, he had wrapped his scarf around Clara's neck, protecting her from the cold. 

"Your Majesty," Clara giggled, curtsying.  
She beamed up at him. "Thank you for a lovely date, Doctor."

She said 'date'. His hearts leapt. Beat that, Pink boy! 

"Thank you too, Clara."

"What for?" She frowned. 

"For being the perfect company. Always."


End file.
